


Two weeks in Missouri

by Tonnocal



Series: Troth [1]
Category: Dresden Files - All Media Types, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Community: dresden_kink at dreamwidth, F/M, Gen, Marriage, Multi, girl!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonnocal/pseuds/Tonnocal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Challenge Accepted! http://dresden-kink.dreamwidth.org/2675.html?thread=2931571#cmt2931571</p><p>Johnny Marcone kills a kid and leaves Chicago to lay low in Missouri. He meets Harlene 'Harry' Dresden. Then they get attacked by vicious redcaps, have to outrun a stampede of startled deer, survive meeting her over protective Wizarding Master, and maybe fall in love.</p><p>There's also the small matter of the wicked fairy scheme, lurking in the woods...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One - Meet everybody

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as 'Troth' over on dreamwidth, this is the first of, uh, many in a series about how the series would play out if Harry were a Yakuza wife. No really.

 

 

 

 

Seven hours out of Chicago, John finally stops driving in the middle of a national forest.  He’d left the highway an hour ago, winding his bike along rural roads and drives. The back tire on his bike is flat, split as he crested the last hill. He’s nearly out of gas, and with the way his head is it’s a miracle he didn’t end up a statistic after hour four.

 

He isn’t entirely sure where he was, the hills undulating and the trees rising up from the earth to obscure the distant lights of civilisation to the north. He could almost pretend that this was somewhere untouched by men.

 

Ten hours ago he’d watched as Marco Vargassi wasted a fifteen-year-old dealer. Sampling the product. Keeping it in his fucking room where his parents had found it. Found it and called the cops. So, he’d come to his supplier. To that fuck-wit shit for brains dope smoker Franco. Who’d been lighting up with Marco. Old buddies, the two of them half lit to Jerusalem and telling this kid to go to prison, to suck it up, to accept he’d fucked up.

 

Then, god, what was his name? Did he even know?

 

David. David says, “Hey, you don’t make this go away, well I know who your are. I’ll cop out, and you’ll be down the hole.” Which was his biggest mistake really. There’s a reason, John knows, that he’d watched all this from the kitchen. Watched as Marco put a pair of .44’s in his chest and the kid spilt blood all over the carpet.

 

You can’t take out Marco with just bravado. He may be a thug, but he’s a smart thug.

 

Then it’s time to roll out the plastic tarp and get the kid in the boot of his own car. Christ, he’s skin and bones. Drive around a bit, find a dumpster. Then it’s a simple matter of rolling in the corpse, cutting the plastic, dumping in a few bottles of booze over him and lighting it up and running.

 

“Hey John, best lay low for a few weeks, yeah? Get out of town, y’know?” Marco says to him as they pull into the house. John smiles, mentions a hankering to sail, gets on his bike and drives south. It’s got to be warmer there, right?

 

 

John just wishes, looking out at dawn over a patch of wilderness, that it wasn’t all so fucking pointless. There’s got to be more to this, or at least more control, more order to the whole fucking thing.

 

He’s just come to this realisation when Harlene Dresden comes driving out of the pre-dawn light in a pick up truck older than she is.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

Harlene Blackstone Copperfield Dresden had gone by ‘Harry’ since she was ten years old and the other kids had started to call her ‘Harley Quinn’. This appellation had lasted all of a week before being shortened to just ‘Harry’. When she aced the long jump a few months later and Justin came to pick her up, it was by then a natural reflex to introduce herself as ‘Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden’. Six years later, it probably saved her life.  

 

She likes to think Houdini would approve that the assumption allows her to escape the binding circle. She runs like hell as that house burns down behind her and Justin screams as the fire releases his hold on He-Who-Walks-Behind. Justin dies and she runs until she tries to hold up a convenience store.

 

When the wardens catch up to her the next morning shivering in a church, Bob hidden behind some bricks in a vestibule, they drag her to Edinburgh. There isn't any evidence she killed Justin, the demon, Outsider, leaves traces of itself all over his corpse. She ends up with Wizard McCoy, in Missouri. He explains everything, gives her the tools to make her own path. He’s just different enough from Justin that she barely hesitates in staying.

 

Ten years on from that athletics day, she was finally physically mature enough to pass for eighteen or nineteen at a squint. Ebenezer had been amused when she realised, at eighteen with her GED and a pocket full of cash, that her veils were insufficient to fool observant officials. She still looked like a gawky fifteen-year-old.

 

For Harry, the realisation that a tall pretty faced girl was noticed more than a tall pretty faced boy would be was beyond annoying. She hadn’t been idle, these past two years, and was even glad for the delay as it allowed her to experiment more with Eb. He in turn was just glad that she’d practiced her veils out of sheer frustration at the world. The emotion led to a certain inclination towards the forbidding and frightening over her mother’s preference of attraction and misdirection.

 

On the morning in question he’d roused her at the ass crack of dawn to head to town for the post, kept since the previous evening's late delivery in the locked offices. The package contained time-sensitive ingredients that, if kept out to long in the morning, would be useless for more than mulch. Given that they were for a ritual to close the Way that a group of carnivorous Redcaps were using to get in and out of the Never-Never, neither of them felt conflicted over breaking into the office.

 

Now on her way back, Harry was scowling and altogether not in a mood for socialising until she’d had the chance to sleep.

 

So, coming over the crest of the hill just before the turn off to the farm, she was less than pleased to see some mook in jeans and a leather, jacket next to a motorcycle with a blown tire, try to wave her down. Even less welcome was the movement in the trees behind him of what looked suspiciously like redcaps.

 

Harry pulled up to the curb, got out and looked the guy up and down. His jeans were grease stained from the bike, his flesh goose pimpled and he was shivering slightly in his dew-damp t-shirt and leather jacket. His helmet was tucked under his arm, goggles clutched in his hand, dark hair sticking up ever which way. All in all he was a pretty unimpressive sight.

 

He wheeled his bike along awkwardly and as he came closer he smiled and looked her in the eyes. Pale jade, like thousand-year-old coins, Harry felt her breath catch.

 

Oh.

 

Then she fell into his soul.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

She looked around and saw a forest of buildings, in the distance the sound of gunfire. A burning corpse clawed at the side of dumpster down a nearby alleyway. Light shifted, falling in shadows and beams of light as though through thick canopy. A lion held court with other predators nearby, the lion’s glossy coat and mane catching the light but its flesh seemed to be rotting from within. With a start, Harry realised that none of these were anything but echoes of life.

 

She spun around and saw him passing through shadows, stalking the court. A great tiger, all contrasting stripes of light and dark, moving silently through the urban jungle. It paused, and green eyes met hers. She felt herself shiver underneath its assessment, partly fear partly desire. This was a man who’d kill her if he had to. His eyes, she realised, were the colour of money. A bear came up beside him, somehow hidden but present before now. It stood there and Harry knew that people would kill for this man, that he could inspire loyalty without limits. He was still young. Soon even looking at his soul would be difficult. This was a man who guarded his secrets.

 

She looked away, breaking the soul-gaze.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

He was shaken; she could see that much but composed when she snapped back to the forested road by the farm. He swallowed and met her eyes evenly, his smile replaced by something serious and inquiring.

 

“I’m John. What the hell was that?” His knuckles were pale where he clutched the bike. Harry could feel herself trembling a little as she stood next to the flatbed of the truck, a hand on the release lever for the flap, the other clutching her blasting rod in her coat pocket.

 

“A soul-gaze. Happens when you look a wizard in the eye too long. Sorry about that.” She paused, her heart beating wildly. She realised her body was reacting as though a predator had stared her down. A slightly hysterical giggle escaped her throat and she found herself smiling.

 

“I’m Harry. Uh, I was going to offer you a lift up to the farm to fix your bike, if you’d like?” John stared at her for a moment.

 

“Sure, but warn me before anything else weird happens, alright?”

 

Harry grinned at him, “As soon as I know, you’ll know. Promise.”

 

John wheeled his bike up to the truck, and together they were able to manoeuvre it into the bed. As Harry was fastening the flap, she caught sight of something moving out of the woods. She turned and saw half a dozen seven-foot tall faeries in red leather caps and loincloths running out of the wood.

 

“Oh, balls.” Harry cursed. John turned to see what she was looking at his jaw dropped slightly. Then he reached round to the shoulder holster underneath his jacket and pulled out his gun.

 

“Are they dangerous?” He asked as the redcaps quickly crossed the distance between them. Harry didn’t bother replying, just clutched her blasting rod and took aim at the leading fairy.

 

“Fuego!” She cried, and the bolt of fire devoured the creature’s left arm. It dissolved into ectoplasm. John didn’t hesitate. He shot at the left most of the creatures and six bullets later it followed its predecessor. The remaining four hesitated, considering their opposition, before fleeing. Two more went the way of their fellows before they reached the safety of the trees.

 

“In the car.” Harry said, moving round quickly to the driver’s side door. John didn’t speak; he just pulled himself into the passenger side seat.

 

Harry threw the door open, climbed behind the wheel and then threw a grin at John, saying, “Not too bad for a first meeting. With fairies, I mean.”

 

John, more than a little shell shocked by this point, hid it admirably as he fairly clung to the handle. Harry started the truck, whispering encouragements as the engine rolled over. She pulled out onto the road. They were travelling along a plateau in the road, behind them a hill, before them a gentle incline down towards a bridge and a river.

 

Without any warning whatsoever, an uprooted tree stump crashed into the bed of the truck, flattening John’s bike and shattering the back window. Harry screamed and they both threw themselves towards the dash. Craning his head back over his shoulder, John could see a dark, horned figure silhouetted against the sky at the top of the hill.  Recovering, Harry slammed her foot down on the gas and they fairly flew down the hill, leaving a trail of broken glass like bread crumbs in their wake.

 

Harry sighed . The sun was over the horizon. The ingredient was ruined. There was a dangerous mortal in the truck. McCoy was going to kill her.

 

For his part John couldn't help but stare at the beautiful, powerful, completely-not-freaking-out-about-being-attacked-girl driving next to him.


	2. Setting the scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein plot type things happen and there is gratuitous world building for the AU...

The ‘farmhouse’ had begun life as a log shack set up against a trio of hardwoods. Over time, Ebenezer had replaced bare timbers with stone and glass, expanding the building into a sprawling mismatch of architectural styles from the previous two centuries. Harry had never been able to get a definite birth date out of Eb, but she knew that the White Council member was somewhat older than the oldest parts of the house. She’d once found an old knothole in a plank caulked with a scrap of newspaper declaring “Napoleon est Morte.” He’d been living in Missouri since before the Mississippi had been memorialised by Twain, and it showed in his house. 

The three conifers had been encouraged to grow; spiralling around themselves with the crown of branches flattening outwards to allow for exceptional astronomy from a platform suspended nearly fifty meters from the ground. Between the trunks, three levels of living space had been built in and a wrought iron ladder provided access through the floors. It was absolutely freezing in winter on the upper levels.

The terrain had been encouraged to fortify the property. On all sides, the river ran, the house an islet in the middle of its flow. The land had spilt, so that the far shores and the island on which the house was perched, were separated by a deep ravine and at the base of this the river flowed white and furious. The drive arched over an iron bridge, built in the style of early railway works, all rivets and beams. Sometimes during the spring, the river would rise and flood this bridge six feet deep. Then, Eb would get groceries from Edinburgh as the run through the Never Never was often quicker than taking the footbridge on the other side of the house and walking back around to where the garage sat by itself. The reason for the garage being so far from the house was a simple one. Three cars had died crossing the ward line. Now, the truck was consigned to the far shore.

The driveway sloped steeply up from the road, curving back and forth to cover twice as much ground as the straight distance to the house. A quarter of the way up the drive the truck began to wheeze and by the time they pulled into the freestanding garage there was a trail of ominous smoke billowing out from under the hood.

“Perfect” Harry sighed, looking over to the passenger side seat and the man-shaped predator quietly going into shock. He rallied when he felt her gaze upon him and an easy smile slid onto his face like guileless armour. 

“It’s John, yes? Come on up to the house and we’ll see what Eb’s cooked up for breakfast.” She switched off the engine, and swung herself out of the door, scattering broken safety glass over the concrete floors. Harry grabbed the useless package of knight-cut-pussy-willow, the preservation spell entirely depleted with its third dawn and cursed the US postal service for refusing to deliver to the McCoy address. She watched as John swung himself out of the truck, admiring with some glee the slightly shell shocked expression working its way over his face as he took in the house. 

 

There was a note from Eb in the kitchen,

Harry,  
Called away to Ed. Will be back in a week or two at most. Call Injun Joe if you have any real trouble. Groceries due in the afternoon, don’t tip too much. Don’t flirt with that damned delivery boy.  
Keep out of trouble,  
Eb.

 

Harry felt like slamming her head into the table. Of all the times! She looked over at John and tried to figure out what to do next. He had slung his leather jacket over the back of on of the kitchen chairs and was bent in front of the range examining the wood fire oven. His jeans, she noticed, fit him rather well. The leather of the shoulder holster was taut over his back as he breathed slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth, gaze fixed on the embers in the grate. 

“So, you have to stay here.” She blurted out, blushing at her own line of thought. He stood up and turned around, one hand resting on the small of his back.

“Are you going to make me?” He asked quietly. Harry blinked a few times, and gaped before realising what he meant.

“Oh, no, no. Not at all. I just meant that since the truck is pretty much dead and your bike is totalled and going on foot is probably not the best plan what with all the homicidal fairies running around. I mean, you could probably catch a lift to town in the afternoon with Jimmy, that’s the delivery boy, but I don’t think that there’s a bus service until next Monday. That’s nearly a week away. I mean, you could probably bum a lift, but again, with the fairies…” she cut herself off as a peculiar expression crossed John’s face. “Uh, you know, I’ve forgotten my manners. Would you like some breakfast? Or, uh, you look kind of tired. If you want to take a nap I can wake you later?”

John was smiling at her now; she just knew she’d embarrassed herself in some way. There was a time when could have asked Elaine about it, but Harry cut off that painful line of thought as her guest answered.

“Breakfast would be good, and then a nap I think. I’d be happy to have a look at the truck after, I’m not bad with engines.”

“Right” said Harry. “Bacon, eggs and biscuits alright with you?”

 

Breakfast was produced in short order and John seemed to rally a bit from the normality of it, although he seemed a bit unused to the stove. Harry figured he mustn't get into the kitchen much himself. Eb certainly never did if he could help it. She took the less than useful package down to the lab in the cellar, and wondered as she came back why Eb had bothered with the delivery at all. It wasn't as if they couldn't rework the ritual to block the Way so as to use something else. When she looked back in on the kitchen, John had settled himself in the comfortable chair by the stove and fallen asleep under his jacket.

'Well Harry, things to be doing. It's the end of November and soon there'll be more snow than Hoth.' She thought to herself. She ran a load of washing through the hand cranked washer, and then set it on the line. Then she went into the lab and tidied up the now redundant preparations and set about calculating possible alternatives. Eb hadn't taught her much about this kind of thing, so by the time the washing was dry in the autumn breeze she hadn't made any progress. She brought the clean clothes and linen in and folded everything away into the press. Then thinking about some sausage and hash for lunch walked back into the kitchen and nearly screamed as she remembered her temporary house guest. Blushing madly and glad he was asleep she dug into the larder for the sausages and potatoes, cream and onions, butter and dried herbs for the hash. Grabbing a paring knife from the drawer, she went out to the garden where there was some slightly frost bitten spinach and cut enough for lunch. Returning to the kitchen, she set about rinsing, dicing and frying everything and the smell of onions and meat filled the room.

"So, not a bad dream then?" John asked as he woke a little while later.

"Only in the sense that Redcaps are denizens of the somewhat more than figurative Never Never, also known as Fairyland." She replied as she forked sausages onto two plates and turned towards the rapidly darkening potatoes to throw the spinach in, before likewise dishing it up. "There's cutlery in the second drawer over there. Do you mind?" Harry asked as she placed the food on the table. She went to the ice box to grab a couple of cans of coke, and noticed that John had held his gun in his hand under his coat as he slept and was only now re-holstering it. She shook her head to clear it and double-checked her shield-bracelet was around her wrist and her blasting rod in the long pocket in her housecoat. 

"You said the delivery boy, Jimmy? That he would be coming by this afternoon. Is that safe, or should you call someone?" He was looking at her oddly over the table and he took the can of coke from her with a raised eyebrow as though he'd not been expecting cola.

"The redcaps have been attacking hikers and cyclists around here, or at least we think so. There haven't really been any bodies like you'd expect to find. Jimmy should be safe enough in the van."

"They attacked us this morning."

"That was after I'd stopped and got out of the truck." Harry thought for a moment "And after I'd used magic. We hadn't noticed anything about something with antlers like that before. The house is pretty far out of the way and most of the protections are behind misdirection wards. Most things out of faerie wouldn't even suspect the house was here if they weren't looking for it. Much less that there was a wizard living here."

Harry considered that all for a moment and weighed it against what had happened as they finished their lunch. The Redcaps mustn't have known that the house was so close to their newest hunting ground and would likely move farther afield before trying for a new victim. Distantly she heard the sound of a car turning into the drive and deep in the house a bell sounded as something crossed the furthest line of the wards. John looked over at her with a question in his eyes.

"I'm not sure who that could be," Harry told him, "it's at least an hour or more earlier than Jimmy would arrive."


End file.
